


in good taste

by M0stlyVoid



Series: Kinktober 2020 [18]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Curse Breaker Harry Potter, Finger Sucking, Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, Magical Researcher Draco Malfoy, Wandless Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:33:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27081982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M0stlyVoid/pseuds/M0stlyVoid
Summary: Joining up with Bill's Cursebreaking company was a great decision for many reasons, not the least of which is that Harry can watch Draco play with magic any time he wants. No, Ron, he's notobsessed,would you please stop saying that?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Kinktober 2020 [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948741
Comments: 26
Kudos: 270





	in good taste

**Author's Note:**

> the october 18 prompt for kinktober 2020 is— _finger sucking_.

“Afternoon, Malfoy,” Harry says cheerfully as he barges through the door to Draco’s lab. “Got anything fun for me today?” He hides his smile as Draco startles and flushes bright red and refuses to meet his eyes.

“Potter,” Draco mutters, straightening the parchments that had gone askew when he jumped at Harry’s abrupt entry. “While your entrance leaves much to be desired—” Harry manfully refrains from making jokes about _entering,_ “—your timing is, for once, fortuitous. How was Leeds?”

Sighing, Harry perches on a stool near Draco’s worktable. “It was a false lead—just an overly-paranoid neighbor with too much time on his hands. The woman didn’t have _any_ Dark objects, let alone any she was using to command the Dead. The bells were just old Yule decorations she hadn’t taken down.”

Draco frowns. “Pity. I’d have liked to get a look at a real set of Bells. Salazar knows we could use them with all the necromancers popping up these days.”

Harry grimaces. “I know. I’ll find them for you; I promised, didn’t I?”

Draco says something under his breath, finally turning to face Harry, who doesn’t miss the way Draco’s eyes roam over his shoulders and torso before looking away and twisting his hands. Harry puffs his chest out a bit, inwardly congratulating himself on wearing a shirt that he’d shrunk a bit when he tried to bleach it clean of magic residue last week.

They’re quiet for a minute until Harry clears his throat. “So. Why was my timing _fortuitous_?”

“Right!” Draco exclaims, whirling and striding to the other side of the room. Harry takes the opportunity to admire Draco’s arse under the joggers he prefers when he’s working; Draco’s caught Harry blatantly checking him out before, and it always sends him into a blushing fit of snappishness that, while adorable, doesn’t exactly help Harry in his pursuit, so he’s trying to be more subtle these days.

He should probably check if Bill put anything in the employment contract about colleagues dating, now that he’s thinking of it.

“Potter,” Draco snaps, waving a book in front of his face. “Have you been Confunded? You look ridiculous. Oh good, you’re back with me, can you please pay attention? Now, I was looking into what you mentioned last week, when you had that tricky locking spell in Fraserburgh, and…”

Harry drifts a bit, watching Draco’s face light up as he explains through his most recent discovery, watching Draco’s hands fly around as he talks, occasionally jabbing a finger down at a relevant passage in the book.

He’d never expected _this_ to happen when he’d joined Bill’s new Cursebreaking company, but his enormous pash on Draco Malfoy had apparently not been as unexpected to Ron and Hermione, who had both laughed at him when he admitted it one night. “ _Everyone_ knows, mate,” Ron had said, and Hermione had responded with “Except maybe Draco,” and Ron had agreed, and Harry had groaned and slumped down in the booth.

Truth be told, he would be perfectly content if nothing more happened than this—bounding in from Cursebreaking jaunts throughout the UK (Bill had decided to focus more on local issues instead of grave-robbing and absconding with various cultural artefacts, and Harry is totally on board) to tease Malfoy just enough to get that lovely pink flush across his face before admiring whatever new spell or technique that clever mind had come up with. Draco’s their researcher— _Magical Theorist_ is the official title, Harry thinks—and once Harry had moved past their school rivalry enough to actually _look,_ he had been amazed at what Draco came up with. That was all it took for his obsession to come roaring back, even if it was in a slightly different flavour these days.

He thinks it’s mutual—Draco certainly seems to appreciate his slightly buffer physique these days, which is why Harry’s never too upset when his housekeeping spells go awry and his clothes shrink—but Harry had been charmed to discover that Draco Malfoy is _shy,_ and that he runs his mouth when he’s embarrassed, and so he’d had to adjust his approach.

Draco’s hands are fluttering in front of his face, and they’re long and elegant, his fingers slender, but callused at the pads from all his hands-on work, and Harry’s spent a lot of time thinking about what they’d feel like if he—

“ _Potter,_ Merlin, are you _sure_ nothing happened in Leeds, you’re acting more idiotic than usual,” Draco’s voice is sharp, but there’s a note of concern underneath, and Harry can only smile dopily at him in response.

“Sorry. Really, I’m fine, just—distracted. I was listening, I swear it— Hey, I _was,_ you were talking about adjusting some of the untangling spells to be wandless for more precision; see? I _do_ pay attention to you, you know.”

Draco’s fingers are still up by Harry’s face, near his cheekbones, and if Harry leaned forward just a bit more— Draco must see something in his face, because he snatches his hands back and sniffs haughtily. “Well. Congratulations, Potter, you’ve managed to retain the most superficial part of what I just said. I suppose the theory would have been lost on you, anyway. Look, do you need to go rest? This can wait until Monday, if you need to go home.”

“Wait. It’s ready _now_? You already figured it out?” Harry hops off the stool. “No, _this_ I want to see. I can’t believe you cracked it already.”

Draco preens, then chivvies Harry over to the empty part of the lab where the floor and walls are lined with Cushioning spells, which he uses to test out new spells. “I’ve told you plenty of times, Potter; I’m a genius. Maybe this is the time that will prove it to you.”

Harry leans against the wall and watches fondly as Draco busies himself with Conjuring up an enormous, but harmless, Locking jinx—it’s the same size Harry trained on when Bill recruited him, and is significantly bigger than anything he’s ever seen in the field, but its exaggerated size allows for all the fiddly little sections to be seen more clearly. “You know I don’t need convincing of _that,_ Draco.”

Draco falters a bit at the use of his first name, but with one final whirl of his wand (Harry admires the way he holds it; the strip of hawthorn rests easily in his palm like he was born into magic, which Harry supposes he was) the Locking jinx is complete, and Draco very deliberately sends his wand floating back to the worktable. “Now,” he says, and his voice is sharp, focused, and Harry straightens. He’s always loved displays of competency, and seeing Draco in action like this is like nothing he’s ever observed before. “Pay attention, please. I don’t expect you to master this on the first try, it’s dreadfully tricky, but I think you’ll be able to get at least half of it today, and we can work on the rest next week.”

Harry tries to focus on the incantations, he really does, but the fluid Latin dripping from Draco’s lips combined with the elegant motions of his fingers as he wiggles them into the Locking jinx and sparks colours and lights at the tangles are just too distracting.

He’s known for a while that he has a _thing_ for Draco’s hands, but he’s never seen them like _this_ before. The tips of his fingers are lit up with each spell that sparks out of them, and Harry can feel the buzz and tingle against his skin. He’s getting hard alarmingly fast in response.

He’s been sensitive to magic since the war, has been able to see it and feel it in ways that nobody else seems to be able to, but watching this pinpoint precision from Draco is on a whole other level.

Before he realizes what he’s doing, Harry is standing next to Draco, too close, and grabbing one of his wrists.

Draco freezes, darting a startled look towards him. “Harry…?” His voice is uncertain.

“Do you have any idea what you look like, when you’re casting like that?” Harry asks, and his voice is rough. “I’m sorry, Draco, I’ve really been...god, you’re magnificent. I can feel your magic under my skin, I can _smell it,_ and if you want me to stop you need to tell me to leave, _right now,_ because otherwise I’m going to kiss you, and I won’t be stopping there.”

Draco’s eyes widen, and his pupils are expanding rapidly. He distractedly Banishes the Locking jinx, then draws in a deep breath and meets Harry’s gaze. “I’m...not telling you to leave,” he says, quiet but confident, and that’s all the permission Harry needs to crash their mouths together.

It starts off fierce, their kiss, but it gentles into something warm and intense, and Harry could happily drown this way, but then Draco’s stroking his fingers over Harry’s neck, and he suddenly needs more.

Pulling back, Harry grabs Draco’s right hand and pulls it closer to his face, entranced by the sparks of silver magic he can still see lurking under the skin at his fingertips. “Bloody magnificent,” he murmurs. “I wonder what it tastes like?” Before Draco can reply, Harry sucks his index and middle fingers into his mouth.

Draco gasps, and Harry moans around his mouthful and can feel his eyes roll back in his head—Draco’s magic is fizzing against his tongue, lighting up nerve endings all over his body, and it tastes like sugar, like sour candy sparking his taste buds, and he can’t get enough of it.

He laves his tongue along Draco’s long fingers, opening his eyes enough to see Draco’s eyes narrow with heat. “Fuck,” Draco mutters, pushing his fingers further into Harry’s mouth. “You— Merlin, Harry, you _really_ like this, don’t you?”

Harry responds by sucking firmly, and now Draco’s the one groaning, and Harry winds his arm around Draco’s waist and pulls them together to keep Draco from falling when his knees buckle. He pulls his head back, letting Draco’s hand fall from his mouth, and they stare at each other for a minute, panting.

“I like you,” Draco says abruptly, shifting his hips so their erections press together, sending a shiver down Harry’s spine. “I’ve— Well, I’ve liked you for a while. And I think we need to probably talk about that, but…” and his eyes go dark, and just a little wicked, and Harry smiles slow. “I think I’d rather do something besides _talk,_ right now. What do you think?” He sounds confident, but Harry doesn’t miss the undercurrent of insecurity there, and his heart swells.

He kisses gently over the tips of Draco’s fingers before he replies, and he feels Draco’s body relax a bit in his grasp. “I think that’s one of the _most_ genius ideas you’ve ever had, and that’s saying a lot.”

Draco sniffs. “I’ve been telling you for years, Potter—I am a veritable font of excellent plans.”

“You certainly have,” Harry says fondly, then Apparates them back to his flat, ignoring Draco’s squawk of protest and the fact that, technically, he shouldn’t be able to Apparate out of their office at all.

He’s not about to let a little thing like Anti-Apparition wards get in his way, not now that he’s finally got what he wants.

**Author's Note:**

> the tumblr post for this fic is [here](https://bonesliketambourines.tumblr.com/post/632367712397574144/kinktober-day-18-in-good-taste).


End file.
